


And Bend Your Stubborn Knee

by MilesHibernus



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Dom/sub, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M, PWP, Past Sexual Abuse, Rape Roleplay, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 16:50:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6384571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilesHibernus/pseuds/MilesHibernus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First it changed, and then it went somewhere Steve never expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Bend Your Stubborn Knee

It evolved so gradually that Steve barely noticed.  
  
They'd never been like this before the war. Steve knew what people would have assumed if they'd known about him and Bucky, but it wasn't true; they'd argued and teased and sniped at each other just as much in the bedroom as any other time, and as far as the physical stuff was concerned, who was on top was mostly determined by whether Steve's circulation was cooperating in letting him get hard enough. Steve being a head shorter and less than half Bucky's weight hadn't mattered to either of them.  
  
Once they were in Europe, in the field Bucky did what Steve said but otherwise nothing had changed, except that they had even less privacy and they never had to stop because of Steve's lungs seizing up on him. German sneak attack, yes; asthma attack, no.  
  
But after...well, it started because Steve couldn’t bear to take any more choices away from Bucky. He got into the habit of deferring on the little things—pizza toppings, what movie to go see. He’d state his preference and let Bucky make the decision, and if it turned out not to be what Steve wanted, there was nothing stopping him from going to see that movie some other time and occasionally he did. Bucky picked up on what he was doing pretty quickly, but he never commented on it besides ordering fifteen pizzas in a row with anchovies and onions, just to see what it would take to make Steve complain.  
  
The ‘Sergeant’ thing was a little harder to explain—Jarvis called Bucky Sergeant Barnes, which might have been part of it. (Steve regularly thanked his lucky stars for the amount of help Tony had decided to offer; God knew the man would have been perfectly justified in any amount of hostility short of actively trying to kill them both.) But it also didn’t hurt that Steve got _tired_ of being Captain America sometimes; it was nice to have someone else call the shots when they weren’t in the field. He still said _Bucky_ most of the time, but occasionally he’d say _Sarge_ instead and then Bucky would give him a pair of boots to shine or a rifle to clean and Steve would spend a few minutes doing something he didn’t have to make any decisions about. It was soothing.  
  
So it sort of made sense to let the whole thing carry over, if only because Steve didn’t want to think about what it meant that Bucky would flinch if Steve moved too fast when they were making time. If he just followed Bucky’s lead, there wasn’t nearly as much flinching.  
  
And that was where it stood the night things changed.  
  
Steve knew Bucky’d been tense. He’d been building up to a bad mood for a few days, and of the two easiest options for stress relief—go break things in the gym or have sex—Steve was more in the mood for the one that didn’t involve leaving their apartment. When Steve grabbed his hand as he went past on the way back from the kitchen, Bucky laughed and swung Steve into the wall, crowding him against it. “How long you think it’ll take for me to make you beg for it?” He was already unbuckling Steve's belt.  
  
“In your dreams,” Steve said, running his hands up Bucky’s sides, rucking up his shirt. He knew a challenge when he heard one.  
  
“Been having some good dreams lately,” Bucky said, his voice dropping enough to make Steve shiver. He made short work of Steve’s pants and shoved his right hand unceremoniously into Steve’s shorts. “You’re all revved up already. Not gonna take long.”  
  
Neither of them tended to have much of a problem getting hard these days, which was a serum side-effect Steve kind of doubted Doctor Erskine had thought much about. He spread his hands out over Bucky’s shoulderblades and canted his hips forward. “Big talk, Barnes. Put your mouth where my money is.”  
  
Bucky smirked at him. From this distance the effect was devastating. “Good idea.” He slid down through Steve’s hands and somehow by the time he was on his knees, Steve’s shorts were pushed out of the way too. It occurred to Steve that he might have spoken too soon; Bucky had always been good with his mouth in more ways than just talking.  
  
Bucky was capable of what Steve had thought of as ‘zero to sixty’ since the first time he’d heard the phrase, but Steve had a feeling he was in for the other kind of blowjob this evening, the kind where everything took forever and he ramped up so slowly he almost didn’t notice until the climax hit him over the head. And that did tend to reduce him to begging pretty quickly. Steve clenched his teeth as Bucky leaned forward. He didn’t take Steve’s cock into his mouth right away, instead running his parted lips down the side, slowly. Steve forced down his whine and squeezed his eyes shut. If he looked, he was going to break with embarrassing speed.  
  
Steve concentrated on not making noise as Bucky took his sweet time, and that was what caused it. He was working so hard on being quiet that he forgot he shouldn’t let his hands rest on Bucky’s head, and he was so engrossed that he didn’t feel the way Bucky tensed when he did it, and when Bucky tried to draw back for a second to tease him Steve’s fingers tightened in his hair.  
  
Something grabbed Steve’s ankle and yanked; distracted and hobbled by his pants he couldn’t catch himself, and by the time he figured out what the hell was going on he was on his face on the floor with Bucky holding his arms twisted uncomfortably behind his back. They stayed there, both of them breathing hard, for a shocked second before Steve got enough breath together to say, “Bucky?”  
  
“Shit!” Bucky leaped off him like he was red-hot, scrambling away out of arm’s reach. Steve turned his head. “Fuck, Steve, I’m sorry!” Bucky's face had gone blank, the non-expression Steve hated, the one that said he was bracing himself to be punished, but at least there was still animation in his voice. Steve might be able to save the moment.  
  
“Uh,” Steve said slowly. “I don’t think you need to be sorry, Buck.”  
  
“What are you talking about?” Bucky’s expression cracked the least bit. Reflexes aside, he knew in his head that Steve wasn’t going to hurt him for a mistake, and Steve was sure his gut would eventually know it too.  
  
Steve thought about it, about knowing that unless he felt like dislocating something he couldn’t move without Bucky’s permission. “I think I kinda liked it.” He crossed his arms on the floor in front of him but didn’t otherwise move. His cock throbbed against the carpet.  
  
Bucky blinked and his face melted into surprise, and then skepticism. “Are you...you best not just be tryin’ to make me feel better, Rogers.”  
  
Steve rolled his eyes and said, “Trust me, I can prove it.”  
  
Bucky’s eyebrows went up. “Oh yeah? Turn over.”  
  
Steve did, propping himself up on his elbows. Sure enough, his hardon was still just as hard. Bucky’s eyes raked over him and Steve did his best not to squirm under the appraisal.  
  
“Huh,” Bucky said at last. He rolled forward onto his knees and stalked across the few feet between them. Steve didn’t move until Bucky was looming over him. He put his metal hand on Steve’s neck and pushed, and Steve went with it until he was lying flat again, Bucky's weight coming down to rest on Steve's chest, forcing the air inexorably from his lungs. Bucky took Steve’s right hand and pressed it into the floor next to his head, then his left, and said, “This time you don’t move until I tell you to, got it?”  
  
Steve snatched shallow breaths until he had enough air to say, “Yeah. Yes. Sir.”  
  
Bucky’s eyes went dark and his lips curved into a smile. “Good,” he said.

* * *

The baseball game was over and they’d moved on to reading (Steve had a popular history, Bucky was halfway through one of his over-the-top fantasy novels), Bucky in the corner of the sofa and Steve leaning into his side with the book propped on his own chest. Steve noticed that Bucky’s page turns were getting less frequent, but he figured Bucky was bored or sleepy until Bucky closed his book entirely and said, “Hey, Steve.”  
  
Steve knew that tone. He smiled into his book but kept his eyes firmly on the page. “Really, Buck? This morning wasn’t enough for you?”  
  
Bucky’s arm had been resting on the back of the sofa. Steve could have tried to block it and he might even have succeeded, but instead he let it swing in, let Bucky’s right hand land under his chin and push his head back. “You tellin’ me no?” His voice was lower, harder, but Steve knew that was for show. “You think you get to tell me no?”  
  
“Just not sure I’m...up for it,” Steve said, teasing. He had to tilt his head even farther back to get a good breath. His cock was already starting to take an interest; it hadn’t taken his libido more than a few days to realize that the new order of things was very satisfying.  It wasn't even that they never did it the old way anymore—had that morning, in fact, tussling on the bed like they'd never been to war—they both just liked it like this.  
   
“We’ll see about that,” Bucky said, and plucked Steve’s book out of his hands. Between two enhanced physiques, they managed to get to their feet without Bucky having to release his grip on Steve’s neck. Steve relaxed into it; Bucky would let him go if he tried to break away, and that fact was enough to make him not want to as Bucky marched him down the hall to the bedroom.  
  
The instant they were through the door Bucky’s grip shifted and he shoved. Steve toppled forward. In a fight he’d have rolled to his feet, but instead he let himself fall to hands and knees. “Stay down there, you got some work to do,” Bucky said, and he was smirking now, Steve could hear it in his voice. He sat back on his heels as Bucky circled him, thumbing open the button of his black jeans as he did. Bucky cupped Steve’s chin with his metal hand and pressed the thumb against Steve’s lips until Steve parted them.  
  
Steve rubbed his tongue over the metal. Bucky didn’t have much sensation in his left arm, but there was some. Bucky looked down at him and said, “What did I tell you about that, Steve?”  
  
That was a direct question—and he pulled his thumb out of Steve’s mouth—so Steve said, “About what?”  
  
“About moving when I didn’t say so,” Bucky said, and Steve swallowed. It hadn’t occurred to him that sitting up would count.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Steve said.  
  
“Sorry…?”  
  
“I’m sorry, sir.” Steve’s eyes dropped.  
  
“Make it up to me,” Bucky said lazily, and went to sit on the bed, well out of Steve’s reach; Steve almost followed him but stopped the motion in time. “Good. Come here.”  
  
Steve shuffled forward on his knees, conscious of the awkward length of his cock with every movement, until he was at Bucky’s feet. He could have leaned his head on Bucky’s thigh, but didn’t. Bucky’s dick was free of his clothes, darkening with blood against the paler skin of his belly. “Do a good enough job and I might let you come tonight,” Bucky said, silky and menacing. Steve took a deep breath.

* * *

Steve’s hands tightened into helpless fists and he desperately swallowed back the words he wanted to be saying. He wasn’t allowed to talk. Bucky’s metal hand pressed him down by the nape of the neck as his other hand stroked Steve’s cock in time with his thrusts, maddeningly good.  
  
“Not yet,” Bucky said, breathless himself, and Steve was so close, he didn’t know how much longer he could hold it off. “Not yet, Steve.”  
  
He gritted his teeth. He should have been ashamed, face down, ass in the air while Bucky fucked him, but he didn’t have the attention to spare for shame; if he thought about _anything_ else, he was going to lose it. Bucky’s breath caught and he slammed into Steve hard enough to shove him a little up the bed. Steve could feel his dick pulsing and his hand stopped its motion; Steve whined at the loss. “Fuck, fuck, _Steve_ ,” Bucky panted. Steve didn’t dare move while Bucky collapsed over him, breathing like a bellows.  
  
They stayed that way until Bucky’s breathing evened out. Steve wanted to move, wanted Bucky to move, wanted to come like he wanted air, but he stayed still. Bucky knew there was nothing he could do about the way he trembled.  
  
Finally Bucky heaved himself up. “On your back,” he said. Steve turned over. He knew how he must look, flushed red to his navel and breathing hard, and he didn’t care.  
  
“Oh, look at you,” Bucky said softly. Steve bit his lip. He’d have blushed if he hadn’t already been as red as he could get. “You’re gonna go off the second I touch you, huh?”  
  
“Yes,” Steve said, his voice tight.  
  
Bucky smiled and curled over him, supporting himself on one arm. “You didn’t say sir,” he murmured in Steve’s ear.

* * *

Some nights, one or the other of them couldn’t sleep, or didn’t dare try. When that happened, they usually went down to the gym and beat the hell out of gym equipment or each other for a while. It probably wasn’t a healthy way of handling...anything, but Steve had never managed to think for more than a few seconds about how either of them could even _start_ to explain to an outsider what went on in their heads without laughing hysterically.  
  
Bucky had bad nights more often than Steve, not that anyone was surprised by that, but this time it was Steve’s nightmare that had done it. And he wasn’t in the mood for the heavy bag or even Tony’s target bots. Instead, they were sparring.  
  
Steve loved sparring with Bucky even more than he loved going up against Natasha, who he couldn’t hit very often but had to be careful of when he did. Bucky was almost as fast, vastly stronger, and much less breakable; with Bucky the fight wasn’t over as soon as Steve got a good grip. He even had to be careful not to get grabbed himself, because it turned out the metal arm was a lot more dangerous when the opposite shoulder wasn’t dislocated.  
  
Such as when it was wrapped around his neck. Steve had about half a second to get out of the grip before the servos locked and he was totally sunk, and Bucky’d managed to catch him with his hands in exactly the wrong place for it.  
  
But then again, he realized in a fit of inspiration, his back was pressed against Bucky’s chest. And the sparring was having the effect it sometimes had, on either or both of them.  
  
Steve rubbed his ass blatantly back into Bucky’s hips. Neither of them was wearing a cup for this, which Sam regularly gave them grief about, so Bucky got the full effect. “You know, most guys who want to fuck Captain America just ask,” Steve said, in the kind of taunting tone he would have used to pull some jerk’s attention onto himself, back in the day when he’d taken beatings so that some neighborhood girl didn’t take worse.  
  
Bucky froze where he stood, just long enough for Steve to duck out from under the arm. He whirled and took two quick steps back, just enough to be out of Bucky’s reach—except Bucky was already lunging for him. Steve dodged the first grab, barely, but not the second, and Bucky used the leverage to whirl him into a throw. He landed hard and Bucky came down on top of him, a full-body press into the mats. “I always knew you wanted it,” Bucky growled into his face.  
  
Steve blinked in shock and then his brain kicked into gear and he had to stuff down a grin. This was a game they’d never played, and he still wasn’t much of an actor but it might be fun to try. “Never said I did,” he said, and snapped them into a roll so he could throw Bucky off. They came up into nearly identical crouches, and Steve would have paused for a second to think but he didn’t get a chance because Bucky charged him.  
  
It wasn’t like the sparring they’d been doing before, all punches and blocks with grappling a last resort; instead Steve was on the defensive against Bucky’s determination to get a grip on him again. They circled the mat for almost two minutes; in a real fight Steve would’ve been looking for a way out long before this but the object here wasn’t really to get away, and finally he made a mistake, misjudging which way to dodge, and Bucky had him.  
  
They tumbled to the floor, Steve on the bottom, only able to catch himself enough to keep the air from being driven completely from his lungs. Bucky held Steve’s right arm twisted behind his back, right on the edge of pain. “Take it like a good boy and you might even enjoy yourself,” Bucky said. He thrust crudely against Steve’s ass, and the layers of clothing that separated them did nothing to hide his erection.  
  
“Don’t hold your breath,” Steve retorted, and tried to get his free hand under him. Bucky’s metal hand came down on the back of his neck.  
  
“You say that now, but here’s the thing,” Bucky said, his voice light. “It doesn’t have to be you.”  
  
Steve sneered, knowing it would show in his voice. “You expect me to believe you can get laid any other way?”  
  
The hand on his neck tightened, though not enough to be legitimately dangerous. “I’m just saying, we’ve got other options. Cute little redhead, looks like she’d be fun. Or there’s this guy.” Steve waited for the description; Sam, maybe, Tony or Clint, one of the non-powered men… “He fights pretty hard for such a little guy,” Bucky went on, and Steve froze. “And you know, I always liked blonds.”  
  
And that...was not a threat for _Steve_.  
  
He had half a second to think it through. It took him almost too long to decide.  
  
“Don’t touch him,” Steve gritted, and he felt the tiniest bit of tension go out of Bucky’s body.  
  
Bucky laughed, a low mean laugh Steve had never heard from him before. “I thought that was what you’d say.” He wrenched Steve’s arm up higher, and now it did hurt. Bucky leaned over him to speak directly in his ear. “Ask me for it. _Beg_ me for it. Or you can watch.” Steve swallowed. Bucky shook him by his neck and wrist. “Right now.”  
  
“Please,” Steve said, low-voiced, and he almost couldn’t make himself. It was silly—no matter what game they were playing, this was Bucky and Bucky wouldn’t really make him do anything he didn’t want to do. He could tap out and nothing bad would happen.  
  
Except maybe that wasn’t true, and Steve didn’t dare risk it. He wasn’t afraid of getting hurt himself; he was terrified of what Bucky would assume if Steve tried to stop him now.  
  
“That’s not very specific,” Bucky said jovially.  
  
Steve ground his teeth. “Please fuck me,” he said.  
  
Bucky said, “Again.”  
  
“Please fuck me,” Steve repeated. He could feel the heat in his face.  
  
“Tell me you want it,” Bucky said.  
  
“I want you to fuck me,” Steve said, forcing the words out.  
  
There was a long pause. “Somehow the—Captain America just isn’t so scary when it’s begging for my cock,” Bucky said, and his voice had gone cold. Steve closed his eyes against the title Bucky didn’t say.  
  
Bucky’s left hand went to the waistband of Steve’s workout pants, grabbed, and tore. Steve grunted. His undershorts followed quickly and then Bucky shifted. “You might be tempted to try something while I’m distracted,” he said. “Just remember there’s always someone else.”  
  
Steve tried not to move as Bucky transferred his grip on Steve’s wrist to the metal hand. Then Bucky’s warm fingers were shoving into Steve’s mouth. He sucked almost on reflex and Bucky laughed again. “Should have known you’d be a slut for it.” Steve didn’t protest, because he wasn’t sure it would be in character.  
  
Bucky pushed his spit-slick fingers into Steve firmly, but it wasn’t actually vicious; it burned, but Steve had lived with worse on an average day, back before the serum. The problem was that he didn’t know how to react—but Bucky’s fingers were searching, and he knew Steve very well.  
  
Steve bit his lip, arched his back, and didn’t try very hard to stifle the moans Bucky was drawing out of him. “That’s a good boy,” Bucky crooned. “Show me how much you want it.”  
  
“No,” Steve gasped. “Please no, I don’t, please.” His hips jerked, giving him some extra friction, and he wasn’t going to be holding out much longer at this rate.  
  
“But you’re so pretty like this.” Bucky didn’t stop. Steve tried to hide his face against the floor as the pleasure built, coiling at the base of his spine, nothing to hear in the silent gym except their breath and the soft sounds of Bucky’s fingers working at him. He was teetering on the edge when, “Come on,” Bucky said, coaxing, and Steve’s breath caught in his throat as the orgasm tore out of him, sharp and close to pain.  
  
He was still floating on it when Bucky’s fingers slid away, immediately replaced by his cock. Oversensitive and not really ready, Steve yelped and twisted but Bucky had all the leverage. “None of that,” he said. “You just take it, that’s what you’re for.” He didn’t wait for Steve to adjust, pulling back and thrusting in again immediately, setting a punishing pace. Steve, well, normally Steve would have taken treatment like this with no reaction, even if he’d bitten through his lip doing it. But he knew in his bones who he was supposed to be, and he’d interrupted enough nightmares to realize that stoic silence wasn’t his role here.  
  
He couldn’t bring up actual tears but he could let his breath go harsh and sobbing; he could shake his head even as he repeated the words Bucky told him to say, _worthless, slut, fuck me harder_.  
  
It hurt some, but Steve could take it. If Bucky needed him to, he’d take much worse than this.  
  
Bucky came with a groan and all his weight fell onto Steve’s back. It seemed like a long time before his grip on Steve’s arm loosened and he pushed himself up. “Jesus Christ,” Bucky said, his voice shaking.  
  
Steve wormed around until he was face-up, the uncomfortable squelch of his ruined workout pants an irrelevant distraction. “Feeling better?” he asked, trying to make his voice calm.  
  
Bucky collapsed between Steve’s knees and a pained smile flashed over his face as Steve sat up. “I don’t know if better’s the word.” He drew a breath. “Steve, I—”  
  
“Like I couldn’t have kicked your ass at any time,” Steve said, with a roll of his eyes.  
  
For a second Bucky just stared at him. “In your dreams, Rogers,” he said finally.  
  
Steve shrugged. “Let’s go get cleaned up.”  
  
There was another long pause, but then Bucky smiled and said simply, “Sounds good.”

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt on the [Hydra Trash Party](http://hydratrashmeme.dreamwidth.org/1634.html?thread=3767650#cmt3767650).


End file.
